


The train was late

by iximaru



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, a lil sad but not really, i wrote this when i was really unmotivated and tired SO ..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:39:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iximaru/pseuds/iximaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm not going to say your eyes are as bright as the stars, because they're not, they were darker than stars. They were the background of stars, the force that held stars in their place and watched them die slowly from all directions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The train was late

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so this is my first time ever posting on here and i dont really know how it works and also this sucks so bad... im so sorry. I kinda got carried away and it turned into something i didn;t really want it to but whatever. enjoy i Think

The train was late today.

I remember when it used to arrive early, and I didn't have to call in my boss to tell him that I was going to be late that day. It was a hassle but since the train has been late they changed my hours, and I had to get off one hour later than I usually do.

There's no easy and confined way to say that since you left time has been delayed. That sounds dumb but I swear with every inch of my well-being that the clocks in this town went an hour -- a year backwards when you marched out of this town.  
I watched you leave and now nothing is the same.

Sometimes when I walk out into the streets and I look into the sky I'm scared that it's going to cut open and I'll get sucked into a void of nothing where light is bent and time is non-existent. Where you never existed and I'm just a fleck in the universe, waiting to be found but never discovered.  
I wish there was a metaphor I could use to describe you, the way that your hair would stick up in the perfect places and how your eyes were lighter than fluorescent lighting in the darkest market. I'm not going to say your eyes are as bright as the stars, because they're not, they were darker than stars. They were the background of stars, the force that held stars in their place and watched them die slowly from all directions.

Your skin was rough and dark, you had so many freckles and sometimes I would lay in bed and stare at them, I could see O'ryans belt just below the third notch in your spine, and the big dipper on the left corner of your right shoulder. It looked like someone got a knife and stabbed tree bark multiple times to create you. It was too bad that you never let me carve my name into your skin, because when you left this house I think you forgot who I was. Do you still remember me or am I just an abbreviation in your mind of something terrible?

Or was I beautiful to you?

I hope you think of me the way I think of you, I hope you think of cheesy metaphors and I hope you see flowers and think of me. I hope that whenever you see someone that looks like me you're reminded of the person you left.

I'd be damned if I said that I didn't lay in bed at nights and think of made up scenarios where I stopped you from leaving, and everything was normal. I think of chasing you down the road and grabbing you, hugging you and telling you not to leave, and you rethink about things and you stay, I think of scenarios where I tell you I'm sorry and that I love you, but those statements were so overused in our conversations, I don't think they'd mean anything anymore.  
Instead of doing any of those I watched you go.

The sky was dark and there were too many clouds in the sky, they blocked out sun rays from hitting your body, and I knew that you were cold. You left all of your clothes here and didn't take one single thing. I still have those items, I keep them in a box in the closet for the day you return. Sadly enough, it's been three years and you still haven't came back.

I'm starting to wonder if you're alive anymore.

Your shadow coasted behind you and you walked towards the train station while I stood on the steps of my apartment. I should have stopped you and turned you around like they do in sappy movies, I should have kissed you and told you to marry me, I shouldn't have just let you leave like that.  
I'd wake up with migraines after those nights and I'd have to call in sick, my boss was alright with it but I wasn't. I soon learned that that was the punishment I got for thinking of you. So I eventually stopped and the abbreviation I had of you left my core of thought.

I'd be lying though if I said I didn't look at your box of clothes and curl up in bed and cry. Those days are never good, because every memory I have of you comes seeping back into thought, and I can't leave my bed without being reminded of all the things we've done. I'd lay there, staring at my ceiling, wondering if anything you said was true, and why you'd whisper to me on sleepless nights about how much you want to leave, and then utter to me on nights when you were half awake, about how I was your home, and that you would never leave.

Gon.

If you happen to come back one day, to this city, would you visit me? Would you crawl onto my apartment steps with flowers in your hand and your hair slicked back, would you look me in the eyes and tell me that you missed me and that you were just out shopping for groceries but got caught up in line, and it took you longer than you expected?  
Would you tell me that you loved me without a second thought and crawl into bed with me, and we could share stories about what happened in these past three years, and I could fall asleep holding your hand like I used to?  
Could I wake up to you next to me and our bodies would be gently touching, but the heat and warmth was still visibly there, and I could stare at your back, waiting for you to wake up, counting the freckles on your neck down your spine and spread out on your shoulders.  
You'd wake up and roll over and smile at me and we could share a moment of silence, just staring at one another.  
You could tell me that my hair is knotted and that I need a shower because I stink, and when I get in you cautiously get in with me, and we'll let the hot water run down our backs. Our bodies can be waterfalls and our bathtub can be the stream, you can be Victoria falls and I can be Dettifoss.  
You can drag your fingers up and down the scars on my back and you can say dumb things like "They look like the Northern lights.", and I'll scowl at you and tell you to stop being so dumb, and you'll laugh.

Can we do all that again?

 

The train was three hours late today, and now I know for sure you're not coming back, because I got a letter in the mail from your aunt.  
I've never been so certain about someones eyes being the force that holds stars together, because the moment I got your death letter in the mail I saw stars fly across the sky and end quickly into nothingness.  
I know that shooting stars aren't actually stars but in that moment they were, and I thought the universe was crying because someone so delicate and commendable was gone.

I thought it was a joke, I thought that letter was just a prank being played on me by you, I thought that you were somewhere in this city watching me despair from afar and you were getting a kick out of it, but then the harsh reality hit me and, I realized you were actually gone. You were actually gone, you weren't existent anymore and you weren't coming back to see me and your clothes I've kept for so long mean nothing anymore.

I'm actually really glad that I'm never awake because when I am all I can think about is you and how wonderful you were, and how delicate your limbs were, how bright your smile was, how pink your lips were.

Sometimes when I look up into the night sky I see O'ryan's belt and I think about that third notch in your spine. I wonder if you thought of me in your last moments or if you didn't think of me at all. I wonder if you even had time to think of me while you were laying in a hospital bed, drowning in your own spit and vomit.  
I wonder all these things I'll never get answers to, and it drives me mad.

I looked in the mirror the other day. If you could see me right now you'd probably cry at how unhealthy I look, how unwashed my hair is and how dirty my face looks. If you were here you'd force me into the shower, you'd probably wash me, brush my hair, dress me. I think you'd take me out to eat, maybe you'd cook me dinner. I remember the time you cooked me ramen noodles and even though I had them before, I thought they were the most tastiest thing I ever ate, because you were the one that made them.

 

\----

Four years after your death and the train got here on time. I didn't say anything to the man driving it, I just nodded at him and sat down. I guess the universe finally got it's place back in time, because my boss let me off an hour early too.

The next morning was slow, I got up and brushed my teeth. Your box of clothes still hung in the closet, untouched. I put my usual work clothes on, brushed my hair, and headed out the door. I didn't bother to eat because I was already running a tad late and I didn't want to miss the train.  
I stood at the waiting station, shuffling on my feet. I was almost excited for work, I don't know why, but I was excited about nothing.  
It was a nice feeling though, I felt happy.

When I got on the train I nodded at the captain like usual and sat in the left seat on the third row. I watched out the window, waiting for the sun to rise. I always enjoyed the sunrise more than the sunset, the colors reminded me of ice cream - soft but vibrant.  
I watched the sky for thirty-minutes, and the sky turned from a dark blue, to a pastel purple, to a pretty pink in a course of fifteen. It was beautiful, but nothing I've never seen before.  
I noticed that the train was going a different course than usual, but I just guessed that it was for a new stop, since the captain would have told me if I was on the wrong train.  
I slide in my seat forward a little when we came to a sudden break, it was for a new stop for somewhere on the countryside.  
The kid that boarded the train practically ran on, plopping down in the seat in front of me. I adverted my eyes, and I felt like gravity was crashing around me. I couldn't breathe, and the only thing I could see was the distant sunrise in the train window. I think time stopped, because everyone around me ceased to exist, and when he spoke I could feel the goosebumps run through my arms and down my spine.

"Killua! It's been so long!!"

He came back.


End file.
